The Private Life of Monsters
by kishiria
Summary: Giren Zabi and Cecilia Irene at home


The Private Life of Monsters  
  
The lights were dimming to ¨night¨ as Cecilia Irene passed through the ornamental wrought-iron gate into a residential square made of three-story townhouses and a central park. The height of the houses and the trees made her feel small and pressed-upon. She wished Giren had chosen a nice mansion on a few acres of land as his residence instead. She hastened to their front door, feeling as if the windows of the other houses were the eyes of their inhabitants, looking down contemptuously at the woman who lived with Giren as his mistress, not his wife.  
  
Inside, she shut the door behind her with a feeling of escape. As usual, the maid had left the lights on when she left. Cecilia put her briefcase in the foyer closet, then went to the mirror and unpinned her hair. More blonde than red, it fell loosely to her hips, her bangs making her look younger than her 20 years. This was the first step of her "welcome home" ritual every night.  
  
The next was to go across the marble floor of the foyer and open the door under the curved staircase. This was really the heart of the house; the library which took up the entire ground floor. Cecilia went in and inhaled the scent of books, leather, pipe smoke, and cat. The big orange longhair named Lorenzo the Magnificent came running up to her, his plume-like tail high in the air, looking for a scratch under the chin. He was Cecilia's favourite, and she scooped him up into her arms for a hug. The room was a clutter of bookshelves, heavy oak work tables, and in the middle a desk, armchair, and overstuffed sofa. She checked the desk. The maid had replaced Giren's ash tray with a fresh one. She examined the corners and all the litter boxes were clean. Cecilia put Lorenzo down in order to pet the Russian blue named Alexander the Great, and to observe that the grey tabby Big Stupid and the slim black cat Little Stupid, were ensconced at the tops of their cat trees and unlikely to come down.  
  
Cecilia poured out the kibble and the first two cats charged over for it. Big Stupid seemed to have to think about if he was hungry. Little Stupid had too much ladylike pride to dive in like a pig to a trough. This was why she was Giren's favourite, and the one to sit on his lap while he was reading or writing.  
  
Cat duties attended to, Cecilia went upstairs. The second floor was the public rooms; kitchen, dining room, living room, and a very small ballroom suitable for perhaps twenty people. The third floor was theirs, with four bedrooms although the master suite was the only one in regular use.  
  
One of Cecilia´s duties as Giren´s lover was to be his hostess. She´d been in charge of many a dinner party and reception in the rooms below. The best part of a social function in the house was, in Cecilia´s opinion, always ending it and going upstairs. To come up from a night with company- or a day in the office-to the master bedroom was like walking into a cool room on a hot, steamy day. The room was light blue, with thick soft carpeting. The furnishings were simple though; a king-sized bed, two nightstands, two wardrobes, an entertainment centre across from the bed, and two armchairs with a breakfast table between them. Light filtering in through blue curtains left the room bathed in a soothing shade.  
  
Cecilia went to the bed and pulled off her boots. She buried her toes in the carpeting before standing and removing her uniform. One of the nicest perks of living with Giren was never having to do her own dry cleaning. She took her clothes into the enormous walk-in closet and hung them on the rolling rack of clothes which were taken out to be cleaned every few days.  
  
A shower was next. They had one of those showers where there were four heads, two aimed from in front and behind. Cecilia didn´t linger though; she wanted to get dinner started. She wrapped herself in a bath sheet and went into the bedroom to put on the dress she´d taken from the closet earlier. It was of the sort typically worn by the ladies at court; long- sleeved, high-collared, long-skirted, but soft and easy to move in. She didn´t bother putting on a pair of shoes before going down to the kitchen.  
  
The maid had left out a pork roast. Cecilia jabbed it with a knife and stuck garlic and rosemary into the slits. She surrounded it by cut potatoes and put it in the oven. Giren had a ship dedication to attend, so it would be finished by the time he got home. Dinner would of course be served as part of the event, but none of the royal family ever ate at a function.  
  
Cecilia remembered Giren explaining some of the seemingly odd practices the Zabis practiced in order to keep up appearances. ¨Watch carefully; none of us ever eat anything on our plate. We pretend we do, and we´re very sneaky about it. The fact is that as far as the public is concerned, we don´t have bodies underneath our clothes, and every means must be taken to keep up that illusion. If we eat we might burp afterwards, or get something in between our teeth If we drink, it might go to our head. We have to avoid that, so we play with our food and walk around holding a drink, but we never actually take in anything.¨  
  
She smiled a little. Giren always ate what she served him at home, and she could attest in a court of law that he had a body underneath his uniform.  
  
Cecilia went down to fetch Lorenzo the Magnificent for company, then headed back upstairs to sit on the bed and watch television. Since she spent all day saturating in the topics in the news, she changed channels until she found the re-run of an old comedy instead. She reached down to the basket beside her and resumed work on the sweater she was knitting. Lorenzo happily cuddled beside her on the bed, purring deeply. She immersed herself in the detailed work on the sweater and the stupidity of the comedy, stopping every once in a while to bury her fingers in the cat´s plushy fur. Night fell. She felt embraced and happy, though paradoxically this made her feel her lover´s absence even more.  
  
A few hours, a cup of tea and a snack later, she was dangling yarn in front of Lorenzo and making him chase it around the bed. She stopped when she heard a car brake in front of the house, followed by footsteps running up the front walk. She hopped off the bed, scooped up the cat, and headed down the stairs. Before she reached the first landing she realized that Giren wasn´t alone. She heard his step, the sound of his cane on the hardwood. The living room light went out and she heard him say, ¨No, they are definitely still out there.¨  
  
¨Well, can´t you make your guards shoo them off?¨ whined a slurred female voice.  
  
Cecilia´s hands tightened involuntarily on Lorenzo. Giren had brought his wife Ingrid into the house.  
  
She carefully weighed what to do. Whether she lived with him or not, Ingrid was still Giren's princess. Cecilia would have to keep herself from growling about why she was there. Nonetheless, this was her home and she wasn´t going to slink back up the stairs to hide until Ingrid was gone.  
  
She settled on coming down and asking, ¨What going on, Giren?¨  
  
Giren let the curtain drop into place over the window and turned on a lamp. ¨Photographers followed us from the ceremony. There´s a bounty on hard evidence that Ingrid and I are on the verge of divorce.¨  
  
¨We should be so lucky!¨ his wife exclaimed, dropping down into an armchair. Ingrid Zabi was of average height and medium build, with flaxen hair now fastened up in an elaborate style, topped with a diamond tiara. She was in a black evening gown with a matching mink stole. Her pretty Scandinavian features were flushed and a little puffy, and it was evident that she was quite drunk. Cecilia hoped she´d had the grace to do her tippling in the limousine going away from the event.  
  
¨Go look out the window, Ingrid,¨ Giren told her.  
  
¨Why? I´m comfortable.¨  
  
¨Be that as it may, I want those photographers to see you. No. Wait.¨ He went over to her, pulled the tiara from her head and roughly unpinned her hair, eliciting a yelp from Ingrid. ¨My sister lets her hair down the first thing after getting home. Cecilia, put Lorenzo back in the library and fetch Ingrid a dressing gown.¨  
  
Cecilia cringed inwardly. ¨One of my dressing gowns?¨  
  
¨That´d be fine. We need to make her look as if she´s at home.¨  
  
Cecilia tucked Lorenzo under her arm and deposited him downstairs. So much for a peaceful evening. Ingrid would no doubt keep drinking, leading eventually to a fight between her and Giren. Over her allowance, probably. Cecilia had witnessed one of those once and hoped never to have to again. She still remembered the blood on Ingrid´s lip after Giren had slapped her. It was a side of her lover she would rather not think about.  
  
Upstairs, she dug out a bathrobe she didn´t wear very often. It smelled musty from disuse but Ingrid would have to put up with it. She brought it into the living room and Giren made Ingrid put it on. She complained, but Giren ignored it and told her to look out the window again, making herself as visible as possible.  
  
At that moment the timer went off. ¨That´s dinner,¨ Cecilia told them quietly.  
  
¨Good. I´m famished,¨ Giren said.  
  
¨I´m hungry too!¨ Ingrid called out from the window.  
  
¨Set another place at the table,¨ Giren told Cecilia.  
  
Cecilia went into the dining room and did so, seething. When it was just her and Giren, doing this felt cozy, a wifely duty. With Ingrid coming to dinner, it made her feel like a servant, someone the master of the house rutted with on the sly. She selected a bottle of wine and uncorked it. She´d be needing it tonight.  
  
Giren and Ingrid came into the dining room. Ingrid sat down immediately, and Cecilia had to tell her, ¨That´s my chair. You sit there.¨ To her relief, Ingrid changed seats without complaint.  
  
Cecilia went into the kitchen and removed the roast. When she turned around, Giren was there too, unfastening his collar while crossing the room. ¨I´m sorry about this, Cecilia. Let me see what´s going on in the back.¨ He turned off the lights and went to the window. ¨Damn. There´s some cars I don´t recognize out there.¨  
  
Cecilia threw vegetables into a wooden bowl for a salad. ¨I don´t like having that woman in our house.¨  
  
¨Neither do I. But as long as the old man insists on this illusion that my marriage to her is real, this kind of ridiculous situation is a possibility. So we´re going to have supper and try to figure out what to do.¨  
  
¨You could call the palace guards.¨  
  
¨They´re the legal distance away. Much as I enjoy throwing my enemies into the dungeon, I try to do it sparingly. That sort of thing gets around.¨  
  
Cecilia nodded. Giren picked up the salad bowl for her and carried it into the dining room, dragging his right foot a little since he didn´t have his cane. Even his boots couldn´t quite compensate for the damage done in the assassination attempt early that year.  
  
Ingrid sat there stuffily, letting Cecilia serve her. Giren took care of his own plate, as did Cecilia. Cecilia poured three glasses of wine, although Giren said to Ingrid, ¨I´d prefer it if you didn´t drink that. I´d hate to have a scene in here. Remember the last time that happened?¨  
  
Ingrid went pale, but said, ¨I can have a glass under my husband´s roof if I want to.¨  
  
Cecilia swallowed, then sat down wondering if she was going to be able to eat. She picked up her silverware and started on her salad. Maybe she could claim that was enough.  
  
The three of them ate in silence for a short while before Ingrid said, ¨I must say that living in separate homes is the easiest way to keep a 10-year marriage. Even if there has been mutual adultery and an illegitimate child.¨  
  
¨Ingrid, I´d thank you not to mention Gremmi.¨  
  
She leaned forward. ¨So you at least know his name. That must be a comfort to him, poor little thing. Of course, I don´t know why that´d be important; I hear he´s convinced himself that he´s a clone of some sort.¨  
  
¨What are you doing, spying on him?¨ Giren demanded.  
  
Cecilia stared down into her plate. She didn´t want to watch this fight between husband and wife, and she didn´t want to be reminded that Giren had a nine-year-old son by the heiress Mirel Toto.  
  
¨I´d like to be excused. I´m full,¨ she said softly.  
  
¨I need you,¨ Giren said to her firmly.  
  
¨Yes, sir,¨ Cecilia answered, and didn´t move.  
  
¨You have her well trained. I can see why you keep her,¨ Ingrid went on.  
  
¨Cecilia is a good woman and a fine officer. What does Andre do for you besides paint pretty pictures and supply you with heroin?¨  
  
¨Oh, touché, husband dear.¨ Ingrid´s lips curled in disdain. ¨As for little Gremmi, my husband´s son is my stepson. I should keep an eye on him, don´t you think?¨  
  
¨How very altruistic of you, seeing as you hate children.¨  
  
¨Now there´s one thing I never understood about you, Giren. You seem to like the disgusting things.¨ She turned bloodshot blue eyes to Cecilia. ¨You should have seen him, my dear, nursing Garma when he was sick. It was soon after we were married and Saslo was murdered. Garma came down with pneumonia and for the second time in a few months, Degin was once again at the bedside of a dying child.¨  
  
¨I thought Saslo was killed in a car bomb explosion,¨ Cecilia said quietly. She didn´t want to be part of this discussion, but if she could catch this woman in a mistake, she would.  
  
¨Saslo was alive when the ambulance came,¨ Giren said. For the first time, Cecilia saw his eyes reflect horror. ¨It took him six hours to die. Thank you for reminding me of that night, Ingrid.¨ He pushed his plate away and took a large swallow of wine.  
  
¨So you can see why Degin would have been particularly terrified when Garma fell ill,¨ Ingrid went on as if nothing had just happened. ¨Giren, bless his little heart, would watch over Garma when his father had to take care of affairs of state, or just get some rest at home. Why, I came in once and he was holding poor little Garma on his lap, wrapped in a blanket, and singing him a lullaby. It was so very sweet.¨ She leered at him.  
  
¨That wasn´t me. That was someone in a disguise,¨ Giren muttered into his wine glass.  
  
A light suddenly went on in Cecilia´s head. She looked at him and said, ¨Giren, may I speak to you in the kitchen?¨ She stood and walked through the swinging door.  
  
¨This better be important,¨ Giren said to her when he joined her there.  
  
Cecilia smiled knowingly. ¨How would you like to get her out of the house and kill two rumours with one photo?¨  
  
He nodded. ¨I´m all ears.¨  
  
A moment later they emerged and Giren handed Ingrid the phone. ¨Call your boyfriend.¨  
  
¨Andre?¨  
  
¨If there´s more than one, pick the youngest.¨  
  
Ingrid looked at Cecilia, who was rushing across the room. ¨Where´s she going?¨  
  
¨You´ll find out in a second. Have him pick you up here and whisk you away.¨  
  
Cecilia ran upstairs and took the uniform she´d been wearing earlier off the rack. She picked up her dress shoes and service helmet and brought them into the dining room.  
  
¨Here, Ingrid. Dress in these. The helmet will hide your face and people will think you´re me.¨  
  
¨Very clever,¨ Ingrid said. ¨Why do I need Andre?¨  
  
¨Because it will look as if you´re staying in the house with your lawful wedded husband while Cecilia, who was probably seen coming into the house wearing those clothes, appears to be leaving with another man.¨  
  
¨Smart,¨ Ingrid admitted, and took the phone from Giren.  
  
Within half an hour, it was done. Andre, a thin but handsome man with a shock of black hair, came to the house where he was met by Ingrid. Cecilia´s uniform was a little tight in the legs and loose in the chest, but from a distance it would pass muster. Ingrid was wearing Cecilia´s makeup, her hair concealed under the helmet. Her face was further hidden by kissing him as they left the house.  
  
Giren shut the door behind them. ¨Good riddance.¨  
  
¨Amen,¨ Cecilia added from the back of the foyer.  
  
¨I think I´d like to spend some time with my cats now,¨ Giren said, and went into the library.  
  
Cecilia fetched her knitting and joined him there. Giren had stripped off his tunic and sat in his armchair in a t-shirt. He´d lit his pipe, turned on a classical music station, and opened a book. Little Stupid was in his lap, with Big Stupid and Alexander The Great perched on the arm of the couch nearest him. Cecilia sank into the puffy cushions of the couch and Lorenzo joined her, snuggling against her thigh. As her needles clicked against each other and they were surrounded by music and the sweet odour of pipe tobacco, Cecilia felt the intimacy of their home settle around them once more.  
  
After a while, Giren took his pipe from his mouth and said, ¨I´m still marvelling at the cleverness of your idea. Where did it come from?¨  
  
She lowered her needles. ¨When you said it wasn´t you taking care of Garma, but someone in disguise. After that, the whole scenario just popped into my head.¨  
  
¨It was brilliant. Ah, Cecilia, I knew it was a good idea to move you in with me.¨  
  
Her eyes dropped. ¨I thought you asked me to live with you because you loved me, not because I have brilliant ideas.¨  
  
¨I did it for both. Your brilliant ideas and your ability to understand a person within a few minutes of meeting them are what led me to love you. Surely you don´t think I could ever love a stupid woman.¨  
  
¨Well you married Ingrid,¨ Cecilia said accusingly.  
  
¨I´ve told you before, that was politics. The old man wants us all married into old Earth royalty or families who have aided us in the past. Ingrid´s a Danish princess, and they wanted to join their fortunes with the first spacenoid royal family. There was a great deal of pressure on me, seeing as Saslo had a boyfriend and wasn´t about to play into Dad´s plans that way.¨  
  
¨You let Mirel Toto bear your child,¨ Cecilia went on.  
  
¨Dad didn´t let me have a choice. The Toto family told him she was pregnant, and he saw to it that she went to term and was set up for life.¨  
  
Giren put his pipe aside and lifted Little Stupid onto the floor. He sat down at Cecilia´s feet and rested his head on her lap. ¨Cecilia, my darling, I know what this is about and I´m sorry. You know I love you, and only you, and haven´t I provided for you well? Haven´t I been a faithful husband to you? Most women in your position have to live apart from their lovers and wonder if they´ll ever leave their legal wives. You have a home with me and you know Ingrid and I are going to divorce someday. You´ve heard her say it yourself.¨  
  
Cecilia ran her fingers through his blond hair, mussing its sleek, gelled- back look. Giren was almost old enough to be her father, but if she ruffled his hair and got him to smile, she could almost forget that fact.  
  
She leaned down and kissed his forehead. ¨I wanted your baby though, so badly.¨  
  
Giren´s arm went around her waist. ¨I know, Cecilia. So did I. I´m grateful to you for having that abortion when I asked, because the time was wrong. It is not the right time for us to start a family.¨ His eyes met hers. ¨We will, though. It all hinges on Dad dying and my ascending the throne. I´ll give Ingrid a divorce, a golden handshake, and send her back to Denmark where she can stay as drunk and stoned as she wants. Then, a proper marriage to you, and we´ll start our family. Our royal family.¨  
  
His fingers tightened around Cecilia´s. ¨Think of it, darling. If we had a baby now, it would just be a by-blow, another bastard by a mistress. But if we wait, you´ll be my wife and my queen, the mother of princes.¨ He raised her hand to his lips. ¨And we´ll have a magnificent wedding and everyone will admire your beauty.¨  
  
¨Giren my love.¨  
  
He raised himself onto his knees, leaning in to kiss her. Cecilia sighed in happiness as she felt his lips on hers. She slid her arms around his broad chest, clutching him to her. Cecilia didn´t know how long it would be before Giren could be her husband by law as well as by action, but when his arms were around her and he was holding her against that magnificent body of his, she was content to wait.  
  
Much later, they lay in bed together with his head on her shoulder. ¨You always call the shots,¨ Cecilia murmured into Giren´s ear. ¨I want to be there with you, to have my own influence as we´re together, but I always get swept along by your power.¨  
  
He kissed her. ¨Then be my perfect follower, Cecilia, No one else is. No lover, no friend, no colleague, has ever been like you, realizing that while they may have their own brilliance, no one can ever be my equal.¨  
  
Cecilia stroked the damp skin of his back. ¨I will follow you, my ruler, my beloved.¨  
  
¨I love you, Cecilia,¨ Giren told her, and she knew, at the moment, that it was true. 


End file.
